Saturday, June 19, 2010


Through the mirror, she reaches out,
her arm outstretched.
I blink, she blinks, I smile, she smiles
She is real. I am real.

The beautiful vase, a gift, a memory,
the shining woman in gold,
Mystical! Beautiful!
It is real. She is real.

Lovingly, I lift the vase,
And hurl it at the mirror.
Anger, love, hate, peace
All exist, all are real.

Broken mirror, shattered ceramic,
chipped paint, threads, warmth.
melt down, leave nothing, but a void.
Was it real? Was she real? Was I real?


garima said...

Too goood!!!!!!! Maza aa gaya....

Vibha said...

Thanks Garima, It is flattering to receive comments from the other side of the Globe. ;-)

Vaishali Ahuja said...

Very nice poem Vibha :-) Hidden thoughts behind it?

Vibha said... hidden thoughts...everythings out in Open ;-)

Ripple (VJ) said...

School ki yaad aa gayi :)

Vibha said...

@VJ. Kyon???